


ungracious, unsung

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You are my stranger and see how we have closed.In which Jeno is a Targaryen and Donghyuck is a Stark and things are as simple as they want them to be. (Or, a Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire AU)





	ungracious, unsung

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idolrapper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idolrapper/gifts).



> I know it doesn't make sense for Donghyuck to be a Stark but Game of Thrones as a franchise in itself is fucking nonsense lbr
> 
> in any case, [Jeno](https://twitter.com/SuperKillJeno/status/898383432195100673) [Targaryen](https://twitter.com/leejenokr/status/898381945490382848) is a thing
> 
> the show and the books are awful to children in general but I tried to make things, uh, fluffy and sweet… btw, I'm sorry I didn't mention Donghyuck's sister by name ;______; I didn't know it and didn't wanna make it up
> 
> Thank you so much to Reem for encouraging me and for suffering GOT with me <3

A Stark wouldn’t fare well down south. It’s a fact, not an opinion—one that Jeno keeps close to his heart, reminding him to be, at the very least, understanding of his betrothed. She’s coming in later, at high noon, with a feast to follow in the evening. Before then, she is to rest and change and Jeno is to show her around the Red Keep.

And as Haechan stands on the windowsill, looking out towards the sky, he realises they’ll have to meet, too. Maybe even today, if she seems up to it.

She should be, Jeno reasons to himself. Starks are known for their temper and hardness.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jeno says to Haechan, extending the back of his hand towards Haechan’s snout so that Haechan can nuzzle against it. “I don’t think she’d be particularly scared of you. Not yet, at least.”

 

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Jeno’s father says in a low voice, keeping disappointment out of his tone for the boy standing in front of him and Jeno.

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace.” the Stark boy, Donghyuck, says. “My sister has poor health and Mother is very protective of her, you see. She was supposed to be raised in the Water Gardens of Dorne with my aunt, but that trip is even longer and Father fears she won’t make it.”

“And Lord Stark thought not to send a raven to King’s Landing?”

“Father doesn’t trust ravens, Your Grace. He thinks words can be easily manipulated. He asked me to come in my sister’s place in good faith.”

“Yes, but Jeno here is to be married to your sister, not you,” Minho says in a clipped tone.

“The way I see it, Your Grace, this is a better arrangement,” Donghyuck says, a grin slowly making its way through his face. “Who else is going to tell the prince how my sister really is?”

 

 

“Disappointed?” Donghyuck teases Jeno when they both leave the throne room.

“I hope your sister isn’t as ugly as you are,” Jeno sniffs.

“Too bad, my prince. I’m the face of the family.”

“Not an impressive family, then.”

“Us Starks aren’t really known for looks,” Donghyuck says, falling faster in step with Jeno. “I like it here. It’s very warm.”

“You don’t like Winterfell?” Jeno asks. Donghyuck is supposed to rest and have a good bath, but when he heard about having a tour of the castle, he decided everything else could wait. Now Jeno’s stuck with him, slightly annoyed that he would not be meeting his future wife today.

“Mother is a Martell, you know. She grew up in the Water Gardens, always eating the freshest, ripest fruit. She loves Father and Winterfell, but I think Winterfell’s too dreary for her.”

“You have her look,” Jeno points out, thinking about how nicely the bright colours of King’s Landing clothes will look against his skin, instead of the grubby-looking black of Winterfell. He remembers seeing Donghyuck’s mother once, her skin an even more burnished bronze, glistening almost wetly in the light. “Your sister is your twin, isn’t she?”

At that, Donghyuck bursts out laughing. “I’m not sure if you’ll find comfort in this, Your Grace, but she looks nothing like me. She has Father’s look.”

“Ah.” They reach the godswood. Jeno stops in front of the heart tree, looking into the face carved into the wood. “This is the godswood,” he says. “We pray to the Seven here in King's Landing, but of course, every faith should be well represented.”

“Do you really?” Donghyuck asks.

“Do I what?”

“Pray. My sister is quite prayerful. She comes to the weirwood at Winterfell every morning and offers thanks.”

The sentiment makes Jeno pause. “Even if…?”

“Even if she’s sick? I think especially so. She has a sharp mind and a good heart,” Donghyuck says quietly without taking his eyes off the heart tree. Then he turns his head to face Jeno. “I heard there are secret passages here. Have you been to them?”

Jeno has—once as a kid, just a foot down an unfamiliar corridor because he was playing hide and seek with Jaemin, the son of Lord Arryn. “I can’t bring you there,” Jeno apologises. “Shall we go to Maegor’s Holdfast?”

“How about the dungeon? The skull of Balerion is there, isn’t it?” Donghyuck asks excitedly, eyes shining. When Jeno doesn't reply right away, the smile turns into a frown. “Am I not allowed there as well?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea why you would want to go there in the first place,” Jeno argues. “The dungeon is dreadful and cold. Besides, I have my own dragon.”

Donghyuck looks at him with his brows knitted together. “Your own dragon,” he repeats.

“He’s not big yet,” Jeno says. “He won’t get as big as Balerion, so the Maester says, but he’s beautiful.”

“May I see him?” Donghyuck asks, eyes shining brighter than when he mentioned Balerion.

“You’re not scared?” Jeno asks.

“You said he isn’t big yet,” Donghyuck reasons out. “Can he breathe fire?”

“Just smoke as of now.”

“Then he can’t be deadly yet," Donghyuck declares finally. “I'd like to see him.”

“You dare command your prince?” Jeno has to applaud his gall—even grinning at his father in the throne room earlier was quite impressive.

Donghyuck merely smiles and asks, “Would it please my prince to let the heir of House Stark see his dragon?”

Jeno smiles and extends his hand, clenching Donghyuck’s tightly in his as they sprint across the Red Keep and bound up the stairs of Maegor’s Holdfast to his chambers.

Haechan is a beautiful deep red, the scales shimmering to reflect gold whenever he cranes his neck or stretches his wings. He flies the small distance from Jeno’s windowsill to his shoulder, nuzzling his head against Jeno’s cheek. 

“This is Haechan,” Jeno introduces to Donghyuck, who can only stare, dumbfounded. “He was given to me on my eleventh nameday.”

“But your father doesn’t have a dragon,” Donghyuck points out, unable to take his eyes of Haechan.

“A trader from Essos had come to King’s Landing,” Jeno explains. “The egg was cold as a stone, coming all the way from Yi Ti. The trader himself said the egg was beautiful but lifeless. I wanted to try my luck, so I put the egg in the fire. When I had woken up the next morning, Haechan was there in the ashes.”

“You must be very blessed, Your Grace.”

“Lucky, I think, is the better word.”

“May I touch him?” When Jeno nods his head, Donghyuck steps closer to him, extending a hand that trembled slightly. “He is very beautiful,” Donghyuck says in a whisper.

Out of the corner of Jeno’s eyes, he can see how Haechan had stretched out his neck to sniff at the back of Donghyuck’s hand. Haechan is digging his claws into Jeno’s shoulder for purchase, a hard pressure but manageable.

“Now I’m quite glad I’ll be here for a few more years,” Donghyuck says with a wide smile. “I should like to see Haechan grow.”

Jeno doesn’t want to say it out loud just yet, but he feels quite the same.

 

 

***

 

 

“Tell me more about your sister,” Jeno insists after licking his fingers clean of the peaches he had just eaten. Donghyuck’s grown a taste for them as well, now able to go through his own bowl with the same efficiency, the juices dripping down his wrist.

“Your Grace, I haven’t been home in three years,” Donghyuck says. “I should like to think she’s grown quite a bit in my absence.”

Jeno frowns while reaching for his water. “And you’re sure you’ve told me everything?”

“Would you like to know her deepest, darkest secrets?” Donghyuck prompts. When Jeno leans in, Donghyuck leans in as well to whisper, “She ate a fly when we were children,” smelling entirely of peaches.

Jeno throws a pit at him. “You fool. You’ve told me that already.”

Donghyuck grins at him, licking his lips. “I’ve really told you everything, Your Grace,” he says. “Shall I send a raven to Winterfell to ask about her?”

“Don’t be stupid, Donghyuck,” Jeno admonishes. “And did _you_ eat a fly when you were a child?”

“She put it in my mouth,” Donghyuck answers and laughs when Jeno makes a face. “It tastes of nothing. Would you like to try?”

“I am the prince,” Jeno states.

“And I am the heir to Winterfell,” Donghyuck says in the same tone. “Surely even the prince of Westeros has had a fly in his mouth.”

 

 

“Don’t you think Haechan’s becoming quite fat?” Donghyuck grouses.

“Nonsense. He is a growing dragon, after all,” Jeno says while slitting the throat of a chicken at arm’s length, the blood dripping down into the grass of the courtyard. “Shall I pluck out the feathers?”

Donghyuck stares at him with his own bloodied chicken in his hands, his sleeves pushed up to avoid dirtying them. The blood glistens on his bare arms.

“What?” Jeno asks at the sight of Donghyuck’s stare.

“Do the feathers really matter?” Donghyuck asks. Haechan is lounging, as big as six horses yet curled up like a cat, his tail gently tapping the ground.

Jeno hums. “I suppose not. Haechan,” he calls out, tossing the chicken to his dragon, who completely singes the outside, feathers and beak and all, before taking the whole thing in his mouth. “Your turn.”

“Before long, we’re going to have to feed him a whole horse,” Donghyuck remarks.

“Or I could feed you,” Jeno teases, smiling smugly at Donghyuck’s scandalised face. “He’d like the taste of you, I think.”

“Would you like to try first, Your Grace?” Donghyuck retorts, this time the one smiling at Jeno’s scandalised face, laughing at how Jeno’s cherry-red face looks so bright against his silver hair.

 

 

“My sister has had her first flowering,” Donghyuck announces to Jeno. “It’s quite late, but I think given her condition, Maester Chen had stopped expecting.”

“Why did Father promise me to such a sickly girl, then?” Jeno grumbles. “Does Maester Chen think she is fit to bear children?”

“I can send a raven back to Winterfell,” Donghyuck offers, placing a hand on Jeno’s shoulder as Jeno lets out a deep breath. “I’m sure she’ll be more than able. She’s not as frail as you think, Your Grace. We’ve often chased each other around Winterfell.”

Jeno smiles at that. “I thought you’ve told me everything,” he says.

“This time I mean it, Your Grace.”

“The next time you say that, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to Haechan.”

 

 

***

 

 

It’s been five years since Donghyuck had arrived in King’s Landing. He lounges in Jeno’s chambers, complaining about the sweltering heat and whinging for the cool, crisp air of Winterfell.

“I thought you’d like it where it’s warm,” Jeno says from his bed. The summer was particularly hot and awful, leaving him sticky and gasping for air like a fish.

“In the Water Gardens of Dorne, there’s plenty of cool water,” Donghyuck begins. “We can swim in it and play and drink from it all we want.” He sits up from the chaise and places his elbows on Jeno’s bed, cupping his face in his hands. “Your Grace, would your father grant us leave to go to Sunspear?”

“Are you truly suggesting this?” Jeno asks.

“My aunt is the Princess of Dorne. She will take care of us, I’m sure. We’ll have the Kingsguard, too.”

“ _One_ Kingsguard,” Jeno reminds him.

“House Martell is not your enemy,” Donghyuck says, his gaze gone steely. He _is_ a Stark after all. “Your father promised me that I will not be a prisoner in King’s Landing.”

 

 

Dorne is indeed beautiful, and the Water Gardens everything Donghyuck had ever promised. He smiled so widely when they arrived and ran to the Princess Yuri with wide arms then took Jeno’s hand and sprinted across the gardens, his laughter ringing.

“This is what sun feels like!” Donghyuck declares, stretching his arms out wide while kicking his feet in the shallow pool of water.

It _is_ quite hot, hotter than King’s Landing, but it’s the dry sort that just comes with gusts of wind, instead of the filthy, stinking humidity of King’s Landing. Already, Jeno is turning pink, which Donghyuck is all too glad to point out.

“Not all of us can have Martell blood,” Jeno grouses. 

“What is Martell blood to the blood of the dragon?” Donghyuck asserts. “I’d like to touch fire and not get burned.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Jeno warns.

“Should I tell you what I wish for?”

Donghyuck is incredibly beautiful in Dornish clothes, the sun beating down on his hair the colour of mahogany and making it shine. The heat had made its way to Jeno’s face, made him feel lightheaded and dizzy.

“I wish I were my sister,” Donghyuck says in a low voice, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “Is that terrible? I’d rather be my sister than Lord of Winterfell.”

Jeno has to swallow down his _I wish it, too_. “We’re in Dorne,” he says instead as he leans closer to Donghyuck, his own hands trembling like Donghyuck’s had all those years ago. “It doesn’t matter here.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen when he realises then closes them as he leans in to fill the gap between their lips. Jeno’s hands are still trembling when he uses one to cup Donghyuck’s face, the other cradling the back of his neck.

It take a while for Donghyuck to get used to it, resting his hand on Jeno’s knee while the other arm circles around his waist, dragging Jeno closer to him. Jeno feels so heady and light, full only of Donghyuck in the best way possible, the Stark boy whose skin feels like a furnace.

Jeno doesn’t remember when they pull away, but he does remember that they kiss again in Jeno’s chambers, the night breeze coming in from the open window.

 

 

***

 

 

“I’m going home soon,” Donghyuck mumbles against Jeno’s cheek. His sixteenth nameday is looming while Jeno had seen his come and go, now a man grown. “And my sister…”

Jeno nods, rolling away from Donghyuck so he can sit up properly, finding it hard to breathe. “Will you stay for the wedding?” he asks.

“How can I miss it?” Donghyuck jests. “Father would kill me himself if I don’t go.”

“Do you _want_ me to marry your sister?” Jeno demands.

At that, Donghyuck’s gaze hardens again, his grey eyes turning to steel. “Winterfell needs me, Your Grace.”

“Your _prince_ needs you,” Jeno says coldly, and Donghyuck just laughs at that, laughs bitterly.

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I would be of better service to you as Warden of the North.”

“Then have your sister be Lady of Winterfell.”

“Who will succeed you?”

Jeno stays quiet, wishing they could just return to kissing slowly, in the way that makes Jeno forget everything about impatience. He bites the inside of his cheek then pulls back when he tastes blood in his mouth.

Donghyuck crawls towards him and holds him in his arms, kissing his temple. “Believe me, Your Grace, I’d like to stay in this smelly city for you.”

“Then do it.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Donghyuck tells him. He kisses Jeno on the cheek then on the corner of his mouth, laughing softly when Jeno makes a huff of indignation before pulling him in closer, having already said goodbye to Donghyuck in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/cycIoids), if you're interested


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